


Contact

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Series: Entangle [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Robot Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slash, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scratch to satisfy the itch.</p><p>Megatron lures in Starscream for the final stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was the last part to this series. But alas, another six were written...

Foolish. He had been utterly foolish.

The mere notion of ‘waiting’ out these urges had been a futile one, and he had known it. But he had denied it. It would mean admitting to himself his weakness for primitive desires, coding he had long ago deemed beneath him, trodden out of existence beneath the pede of his protracted campaign.

But much like the Deceptacon’s cryptic lore regarding Unicron, the infernal appetence within him was clearly not so easily snuffed. And just as _slagging-well_ relentless. No sooner had Megatron retreated to the walls of his quarters had he realized this. The fire had continued to burn through him, taunting him. Leaving Starscream against that wall had ended nothing but the conservation of his abstinence. 

It was all _completely_ Starscream’s fault.

In light of the recent event, it was therefore understandable why Starscream was missing from the bridge during the next Earth day. The strategy against the Autobots’ recent activity required much of Megatron’s attention, but even so, his processor refused to dedicate full capacity to the tasks at hand. Replays of touch and sound floated across his neural net constantly, echoes of Starscream’s poorly restrained keens filtered in and out, and it took considerable effort to control himself least his cooling fans kick on. It would not do for the Lord of the Decepticon’s to find himself audibly aroused in the middle of a conference.

At some point during the daylight hours, when business and priority matters had been dealt with, Soundwave approached him before he could leave. A display flashed onto his faceplate, showing Megatron an unauthorized departure log sixteen breems ago. Starscream was unaccounted for onboard the Nemesis. 

Megatron glared at Soundwave’s records. Starscream was a regular offender of unauthorized leaves, susceptible to the whims of his Seeker nature. The warlord had long ago noticed the trend to these minor violations, always occurring prior to a confrontation or dilemma. Flying was obviously his outlet. He chose to tackle his problems in the performance of flight, and he always returned in a (slightly) more amenable mood. Thus, Megatron allowed leeway in these circumstances, considering they were never taken advantage of. After all, Starscream could be downright nasty in the wrong mood – who wouldn’t want to alleviate that?

As it was, Megatron found himself dismissing Soundwave’s log with little concern but plenty of interest. For Starscream to take off during early shift times informed the warlord that something was plaguing his processor, enough to risk discipline. And it didn’t take a genius to guess what that was.

A few seconds after he had accepted Soundwave’s notification, a new log popped up, indicating Starscream’s return. Megatron was eager to learn where he would go next, but after Soundwave returned to his console and two breems had passed, curiosity nagged at the ex-Gladiator’s processor. Starscream had not reported for duty.

Berating himself for this unhealthy fixation, Megatron tried to eject the cursed Seeker from his processor for the entirety of the active shift. He didn’t quite succeed. The burn of pent up frustrations had accumulated far too quickly for his liking, and far too potent. His servos twitched sporadically, yearning to touch, to pin and explore. He had seen but a glimpse of what he now desired, and he could not be deterred from seeing more. It was finally time to admit what he really wanted. What he knew he must do to satiate these accursed feelings.

“Soundwave,” he called levelly from his distance across the bridge. “Where is Starscream?”

The silent mech turned to face him, and a live camera feed came upon his mask. Looking down into the medbay was a quality view of Starscream and Knockout. Though the video was silent, it was clear they were conversing. By their positions, they had been there for some time.

Megatron examined the feed briefly before he turned and left the bridge. His circuits burned a little hotter at the prospect of his intentions. Once outside his own berth-room door he commed his target, envisaging the jet’s reaction with almost too much detail and far too much delight. :: _Starscream, report to my quarters. We have matters to discuss._ :: 

For the fastest mech in the Decepticon army, Starscream’s arrival time was disapprovingly overdue. Had he _crawled_ there? The ping of the door interrupted the quiet some time later, serving to not only announce his SIC’s presence, but to agitate the carefully balanced hunger threatening Megatron’s equanimity. He remained seated in the single chair of his room, opening the door via his channel link.

Had the Human expression ‘deer caught in headlights’ ever circulated the Decepticon’s intelligence network, Megatron might have immediately recognized it standing beyond the threshold. A momentary flare of arousal scattered through him by the sight of Starscream’s lowered wings and wide, guarded optics. The warlord could hardly blame him for his uneasiness. Megatron had never ordered anyone to his quarters.

“You wish to discuss something, my Liege?” Starscream asked, and to his credit his voice was level, quite in contradiction with the visage he was putting off.

“Get in here.”

Starscream hesitated, and had he done so any longer Megatron’s impatience might have snapped another command at him. As it was, the jet slowly, carefully stepped in, as though fearful he might trigger something explosive. At the warlord’s silent command, the door slid shut behind him. He started, eyeing his one route of escape. He quickly turned his optics back on his seated master. As entertaining as it was to watch the Seeker twitch about on edge, the very same performance was stimulating his yen.

“You took an unauthorized leave of absence earlier,” Megatron began darkly, watching the other mech’s movements with hard scrutiny.

Starscream stared, a rare moment of speechlessness. He had clearly been preparing for a different argument. “I… Yes. I did.”

“And you neglected to report for duty this shift,” the warlord continued, idling the digits of a servo while he lounged in his chair. He was testing his own restraint, and Primus if it wasn’t a challenging battle.

The Seeker blinked, standing a little straighter. Accusations he could handle. Accusations were familiar and, more importantly, they were something he was good at. “Hmph,” he uttered, his trademark audacity returning. “And whose fault do you suppose _that_ is?”

Megatron was mildly surprised. He had not expected Starscream to make any indication that yesterday’s event had occurred, let alone throw his usual brand of sass at it. It sent a _zing_ of something through him that felt rather pleasant. This feeling was foreign but… agreeable. Nevertheless…

The warlord stood from his chair abruptly, eliciting a quick step back from Starscream, unique pedes tapping in the quiet.

“I mean – I felt quite _unfit_ for duty,” the SIC quickly added, assuming his retort had angered his master. Megatron began to approach him and he edged back in that jittery way of his. “And there was little of importance on the agenda for – ”

His words were cut off by his own screech as Megatron wrapped both his servos around his small waist and threw him roughly onto the berth. The Seeker landed across it half splayed, wings flattening to their safest position as they took the brunt of his impact. Megatron stalked closer as Starscream attempted to collect himself, shocked and dazed by where he now was. His optics widened almost impossibly so as he stared up at the ex-Gladiator.

“ – ” Starscream could barely open his intake before the touch upon his chassis stalled the words within his vocalizer. He gaped as he watched a large, powerful servo trail fingertips along his chest plate, bumping over the Decepticon sigil. They were whisked from his vision and quite suddenly, with a heavy, metallic thud, Megatron was looming over him on the berth. Starscream’s wingtips bumped into the surface of the berth as they dropped. His EM field was inundated with fear and apprehension; it enveloped Megatron in an uncontrolled, wild surge. He bathed in its intensity.

“W-what?” Starscream choked out shakily, attempting to scrabble back. Megatron grabbed an ankle and prevented his retreat, dragging him closer. “Lord Megatron!”

Little did the Seeker know his every sound, his every movement, drove Megatron’s internal systems even hotter. With his vents teetering on the edge of activation, the warlord locked his sharp optics on those of his SIC’s, siphoning energy from the mere display beneath him. It took considerable self-restraint to resist the coding within him to mindlessly _take_. _Dominate_. But he would not hastily capitulate to such barbaric urges. He was not without eons of self-discipline and rationality, and he was highly aware of his power against those of smaller quantities. 

Slowly, he took his other servo and wrapped it around Starscream’s other leg, palm fitting pleasantly along the smooth contours of the lower shin. He took a brief moment to admire the tactual feedback, the pleasing way in which the flawless surface metal felt in his grip. With his gaze consuming Starscream’s, he lifted the leg from its drape over the other, unfurling the rather appealing, defensive position the Seeker had adopted, setting it carefully on Megatron’s other side and opening the mech out before him. Starscream seemed unable to look away, frozen immobile in the face of what was progressing. His compliant stupor was most satisfying. 

With every move calculative, every action heedfully executed, the warlord shifted closer, shadow falling over his SIC. Charge was pitching through his considerable frame, increasing with every second. He had not felt this level of intensity inside him for a very long time. Starscream had certainly revved his engines good and proper. 

The servo still at Starscream’s right ankle trailed up a long shin, digits prying at the thin plating of the knee fin, ghosting over the ball joints and clasping around a shapely thigh. This finally produced a hitched intake from his prey. He slid his palm higher, thumb curving to the inside of the thigh, applying a teasing pressure that evoked a tantalizing, albeit reluctant, whine. Starscream’s thighs attempted to press together, but Megatron’s knee had been strategically placed against the right while his servo held open the left. Invigorated, Megatron coiled his servo around the outer armor to cup the sensitive inner plating, fingers centimeters from the Seeker’s valve panel.

A shocked, incensed noise flew from Starscream’s vocalizer and his motor functions snapped online. In one, swift motion he brought his right servo around, slashing for Megatron’s face in an indignity-driven retaliation.

Of reflex, Megatron caught Starscream’s wrist, forced to abandon his probing of the Seeker’s inner thigh. He eyed the deadly talons before reasserting his gaze upon Starscream’s. They locked optics for a searching, tense moment, but no other attack was made. Leisurely, Megatron pushed the Seeker’s arm back, forcing his SIC prone against the berth until he pinned the wrist above his helm. A look of open anxiousness stared up at him, exposed and paralyzed by something he wasn’t sure of. But Megatron was. Through the conveyance of Starscream’s capricious EM field, he felt the shimmer of arousal.

With one servo occupied, Megatron shifted his weight onto it, now fully twisting over the Seeker, and with the other pursued the thrill of his charge. _Their_ charge. The skim of energy across Starscream’s frame was as evident as the wings on his back – which, now they had a little maneuverability, Megatron noted, were higher than usual. Erect.

His free servo found its way around the circumference of his subordinate’s waist, lingering only to thumb at the cable before sliding around to the notches of Starscream’s back struts. A soft grunt met his fingering, and at his careful digging along the shallow ridges he prompted a cadence of slight but sensual bowing from Starscream’s spine. Megatron watched the motions hungrily from his peripheral vision as he recorded every shift and twist to the expression beneath him. He abused this sensitivity for a short while, feeling the heat from his Second increase until he was adequately fulfilled with this visual stimulation. Progressing further, the warlord snaked his fingers higher, pressing into the hollow of Starscream’s thruster cylinder, drawing a digit around the inner rim deliberately.

“Ah –” Aborted before it could prolong, the sound shot straight through Megatron’s circuits nonetheless, and he sought resolutely to provoke more notes from his prostrate berth-partner.

Removing his servo from the thruster he slid it up until he met the base of the left wing. He had barely begun to touch it before Starscream jerked, his optics shuttering and lip plates pressed tightly together, restricting noise. Megatron watched, observed for a second before coming to the realization that his actions had instigated hypersensitivity within the small frame; physical stimuli had been amplified. Aaah, the truth to the ambiguous fact of Seekers possessing abnormal sensory acuteness…

Megatron was attentive as he explored this new revelation, but relentless as he pressed out latent sensor clusters, finally wringing more reactions from his stubborn Seeker. He was rewarded with a particularly reactive jolt when he wiggled a digit into the junction where the joint anchored. Starscream positively writhed beneath him, optics onlining and mouth gaping as a moan fled free. Almost instantaneously, both sets of cooling fans initiated, neither able to control the heat rushing through their circuits any longer. The sound of Starscream’s talons scouring the berth nearly went unheard as Megatron coaxed a further string of noises.

As a warrior, a gladiator, Megatron was well aware of the feats he was capable of. The power he could exert. His servos had dealt countless fatalities over the millennia, numerous injuries (ironically, to the very same mech he was now attending). To witness the results before him from the same servos was quite rewarding, quite…surprising.

The sizzle of charge between their frames only encouraged Megatron to slide his palm long the inner pane of the wing. Starscream arched into the touch, lost to the firm caress across the sensitive plating. His wings were his erogenous zone, that much was obvious, and, considering how much louder his cooling fans had become, they were profoundly susceptive.

For that reason, Megatron molested them ruthlessly, reducing the Seeker to broken gasps and a wriggling sight to behold. Legs bumped against his frame as they attempted to find purchase on the berth. When his own fans kicked up a notch, inflamed by the performance, Megatron decided he wanted even more.

Removing his servo, he allowed a tick to pass for Starscream to grasp at the missing touches, to open his optics and watch what his Master would do next. His shaken, bare expression belied the anticipation shining in his gaze. Megatron slid his servo down the length of Starscream’s frame right to his interface panel without hesitation.

“Hh!” Starscream huffed, hips jerking.

It took Megatron great care to apply a softer pressure than his previous ministrations. Experimentally, he stroked a single digit across the sensitive panel repetitively, watching the ensuing writhes, absorbing the provocative noises issuing from Starscream with full attention. After witnessing a catalogue of utterances over their time alongside each other, Megatron could quite easily admit that these were very much his favorite.

It didn’t take long for the subtle snap of the valve cover sliding open, in unison with the folding back of his codpiece. Already aroused to the point of torment, Starscream had held back with an admirable control. Megatron, however, was not one to be denied, and with a flare of selfish, lustful victory, made sure to catch Starscream’s overly bright, overly wide optics as he looked down to his prize. With another, careful, press Megatron ghosted the tip of a digit around the slick rim of the Seeker’s valve. Lubricant had already coated the delicate mesh, twining around his claw.

Starscream’s free servo suddenly found the edge of the berth as his lip plates gaped, spilling a train of sporadic pants. Unable to still his hips, his jump drew Megatron’s finger sharper against his rim, fetching a completely different sound from his vocalizer that forced the warlord to stall, least he lose control and damage this fragile situation. Not to mention his SIC. Punishment was one thing, but this was a whole other stage.

Returning to his conduct, Megatron felt the first nip of uncertainty; Starscream’s frame was slim. His valve was so small. There was a sobering question of fit; Megatron was a big mech.

But not without ambition had Megatron crawled from the pits of his caste to his current power. Without preamble, he slid the digit into the wet channel straight to the knuckle.

“Gaah!” Starscream all but cried, pelvic array jolting sharply as his helm slammed back against the berth.

Megatron barely felt the sting of the Seeker’s talons on his left servo. A crackle of charge bolted through him so quickly he heard it rampage past his audials and dazzle his vision. With considerable control, he stilled his digit, cupping Starscream’s aft with the others to secure its position. He drank in the pose under him before curling his finger.

Starscream quite literally shrieked as it grazed a sensor node deep inside, but he was allowed no reprieve as it repeated. Whatever composure the Seeker had managed to hold onto dissolved immediately. Digging his wings into the berth he bucked his hips helplessly, gasps and whimpers so lewd they threatened Megatron’s self-control. Behind his own interface panel his spike began to pressurize. Starscream was undoing the gladiator slowly but surely.

“L-Lord Megatron –” The Seeker rasped, optics closed tightly, chin tilted back. He was an inviting display indeed.

A sense of mild haste settled into the warlord’s spark, and he knew he was quickly running out of restraint. With care he brought a second digit sliding down the first, parting the valve clamping down on him. It earned him a delightful squeal that resonated through his circuits. Condensation had begun to glisten across Starscream’s armor, and for some unknown reason it nearly drove Megatron over the edge. With perhaps a bit too much vigor he swirled his digits around Starscream’s channel, catching more nodes as he rotated his servo. Harsh or not, it drew out a long, robust moan from the Seeker. His hips rocked back and forth, trying to replicate the fire-like sensations as his wings twitched and flared behind him, filling the air with the soft scraping of metal.

With a confident push, Megatron inserted a third finger, taking note of the slight change in pitch to the Seeker’s whines. Soothingly, he used his thumb to brush the sensors lining the outer mesh of his valve, distracting from the burn, until the vice-like tightness alleviated and he could massage the channel, coaxing it loose. His preparations were dedicated, despite the consuming desire to sink his spike in _now_ and claim his trophy. If he did, he would surely break the mech. For all the punishments he had endured, Starscream had just shown Megatron that abuse in this intimate manner would leave him eternally damaged.

It took a further few ticks before Megatron was satisfied with his work, before the Seeker’s impending overload could crescendo too far. And at last, with a swift sound, his codpiece retracted and his spike housing slid open, alleviating his discomfort. He swelled to his full size as he slowly removed his soaked digits, spark vibrating rapidly in anticipation. Moisture had stained his own armor without his detection, but that was no surprise considering the compulsion he had been fighting. His spike was already glistening with preparation discharge, aching to find its place inside the Seeker; their respective interfacing equipment reacting to the activation of the other’s.

The touch of Megatron’s tip to Starscream’s valve sent a spasm through his frame, and he seized. Megatron cast a glance to his helm, evaluating his expression. The Seeker’s mouth was agape, spine bowed, optics staring at the ceiling, refusing to look anywhere, perhaps fearful of what he would be contending with. But he did not reject, or make any indication of. Despite his expression, his EM field pulsated with desire and need, almost overwhelming Megatron’s. With a last second, he pushed in.

The immediate reaction was for Starscream to tense. Not the smartest move. The drawn out sound of air rushing out of his intake rose above the whir of their fans until a discomforted grunt broke from his vocalizer. Megatron shifted his servo to slide along the spinal struts, stroking along the curve to ease the distress.

“Relax,” he rumbled softly.

Guiding his servo higher, he sought out the sensor clusters in Starscream’s wing and pressed into them, kneading at the sensitive appendage. As he expected, the rigid hold of the slim form relaxed against the affecting distraction and a hot groan rewarded his efforts. He felt the tight ring give, and he sank in a little more, bombarded with sweet, sweet pressure around his swollen length. Oh how he wanted nothing more than to flick his hips and bury himself in one motion, but he resisted. The fit was suffocating, and he had yet to reach his full, widest girth. He dug his finger into the wing’s joining seam and Starscream’s frame shivered, moaning. A few beats later Megatron met his hilt.

They paused to adjust, cooling fans roaring in the precarious hush, wordless noises slipping from the Seeker’s vocalizer. The heat was like nothing Megatron could remember, it seared the sensitive mesh of his spike almost to the point of pain. But it was the most blissful pain he could want. He could scarcely believe the Seeker could accommodate his impressive length at all.

A sharp stinging pain drew his attention down to his arm to find Starscream’s free servo clenched around it, pricking the surface hard. Megatron hadn’t even noticed when it had relocated. They were motionless as the initial throbs of pain and pleasure lessened, acclimatizing to their individual sensations.

“M-move,” the Seeker panted demandingly after an insufficient wait.

“Patience.”

Stubbornly, the jet shifted his hips and bit back a moan. He could deny it all he wanted, but it was pained, and Megatron would not bring that element into play here.

He transferred his strong servo and gripped Starscream’s hips, stilling them. His SIC whined in either frustration or pleasure. Either way, he tried to move again merely to defy Megatron, but failed. The grip was firm, subduing his movements as his over-stretched valve pulsed around the huge intrusion. Starscream then yowled in clear frustration. Some part of Megatron found his behavior amusing, endearing even. Starscream was impatient for more pleasure, demanding even in his rather helpless position. 

Or… perhaps his exasperation was something else, Megatron found himself thinking. Perhaps their inertness brought him discomfort not from physical means but another… Starscream had not met his optics since they had connected.

In the stillness of their postures, Megatron was highly aware of everything. The throb of his spike against the stifling tightness worked to unpick his control, and he fought it like any other opponent. It wasn’t until he felt Starscream relax slightly did he move his hips searchingly. He was met with a broken sigh. Slowly, he withdrew, gritting his own denta against the pleasure. His fans tried valiantly to cool him down but he knew the heat would only increase from here. He gently pushed back in, working his way steadily until their fit was bringing them both sparks of bliss. When at last he could withdraw effortlessly, a blaze of fire unfurled through his frame and he drove himself into the Seeker.

A screech of raw pleasure tore from Starscream’s lip plates as he was jerked against the berth. His spine bowed beautifully against the hold Megatron still had on his waist, pressing his wings hard into the surface. He could barely recover as the warlord began rocking inside him, carefully. He was tight, but it was quickly becoming a delicious burn, and after a solid strike to a deep set node, Starscream about exploded right then. His voice spluttered as it nearly gave out, and then again as the thrust returned. His optics widened – he had probably never known of such hidden sensors. Megatron surged for it again, enthralled by the reactions. Something primal within him fed from the disarray clenching around him, growing so strong he could barely contain the urges to let go and unleash. He growled loudly, both in resistance and rapture. Starscream’s responding moan did little to help his crumbling resolve.

Reasserting his grip on the small waist, Megatron angled the Seeker’s hips and was met with a yell that could rival his namesake. He struck something that shook the jet’s entire frame so hard his wings rattled against the berth and the metallic scent of energon hit his olfactory senses. Preoccupied with the undulating Seeker trying to strangle his spike, Megatron stilled deep, more to aggravate his partner than to revel in the delight. Some things would never change. A resulting snarl pushed through the noise of their fans as Starscream attempted to take control of the teasing pace, but Megatron would not allow him.

“Megatron!” The Seeker moaned helplessly, squirming in his pursuit of friction. After another moment of unbearable inactivity he threw his head to the side and growled loudly. His petulant behavior struck a sharp cord of satisfaction, something within pleased by the familiarity. But a split second later Starscream’s free servo unclasped Megatron’s arm and fumbled over his cruel grip, feebly trying to pry it from his hip. The stark differences in their strengths plucked at Megatron’s superiority complex and he let a faint, conceited smirk twist his lip plates.

Conceding to the pleas, the large mech released his grip and slid his palm along the curves, coming to rest around the thigh even as the Seeker’s hips began to rotate on his length. He took ahold of the leg and in one swift, fluid movement withdrew his spike and plunged in so quickly he forced a jarring hiccup from Starscream’s vocalizer. Using his grip on the thigh, he achieved a powerful pace as he impaled the now sobbing Seeker, striking new sensor nodes even against the struggling brought on by pure, unbridled ecstasy.

Too soon, Megatron snapped his hips and stilled once more, shaking on the verge of an overload as he battled against his own climax. He would not let it end so quickly, especially not before Starscream.

A loud, protesting keening rose from below him and the hips he was so deeply locked within rolled, desperately seeking more friction. The motion almost tipped Megatron over the edge until he returned his grip to the mech’s waist. Another frustrated whine met his audials, threatening to run right down through him and end his battle. Starscream was intoxicated by the cocktail of pleasures, he appeared only barely coherent, and Primus if that didn’t send a stab of scorching delirium through Megatron’s overcharged bulk.

When at last he continued, Starscream was incapable of moderating his vocals, letting free noises that were so obscene, had he heard them himself he would have been shamed.

And then through the disjointed gasps and moans, the unmistakable chatter of Vosnian cut through. Starscream _rarely_ spoke in his home language. It surprised Megatron. Amidst the chaos of charge building ever higher, something else ricocheted against his spark-chamber. He wasn’t sure what.

In the next instant the unknown feeling flew from his processor, forgotten, as Starscream wrapped his free leg around Megatron’s waist and practically speared himself. The surging lull of his hips was promiscuous, hypnotic, but not quite enough to stall Megatron’s aching objective. With a dominant growl, he renewed his tempo, lifting the Seeker’s aft higher for even deeper penetration. Starscream yelped sharply as each thrust hit his highest node, sending powerful tremors along his armor. It took only a few more direct strikes to push him to completion.

With a violent shudder, his lithe frame snapped taut. Starscream _did_ scream. The exclamation ripped from his vocalizer so harshly Megatron felt the vibrations travel from his embedded spike. With a paroxysm of euphoria, Starscream’s overload shook him to his core, and in the spark-halting moment before it wrung Megatron’s from him, he forced his optics to record every tiny detail as the Seeker came undone. The scene was then lost to him as he succumbed to his own climax. A firework of explosions cascaded through his systems so powerful he staggered on the borders of unconsciousness. His frame shuddered as he released inside the quivering Seeker. So confined was their coupling that their mixed transfluids spilled out between them. Megatron sighed, contented.

There was a brief period of disorientation. Awareness returned as they held together, recovering. The roar of their fans hopped down a notch as the pleasures absconded. Megatron nudged the vestiges of heat from his spike, coaxing a last sound from Starscream’s battered intake. At some point Megatron’s optics had offlined, and he slowly cast his gaze across the prone Seeker. His optics were clamped shut and his lip plates parted, and had it not been for the subtle twitch of his talons and the relaxing of his legs Megatron would have assumed he had sent him into recharge. It was a very pleasing picture, but… also a terribly vulnerable, exposed one that ignited a flare of – quite frankly unjustifiable – protectiveness. This was Starscream at his barest; no insults to scold, no cunning words to shroud in, no biting remarks to conceal truth… Here he had no defenses, and some corroded, long-since used part of Megatron felt a need to guard it. No doubt the results of his overload coding pumping through his circuits. 

Carefully, Megatron released his SIC’s captive wrist, noting the distinct dents of his fingers in the crushed metal. It was then he became aware of the energon scent again, and caught sight of the vivid color staining his other arm. Starscream had gripped him so tight he had punctured through the armor. The sting was, however, lost in the flood of after-coding ebbing through his circuits. He ran a last stroke along Starscream’s thigh as he lowered it, and the Seeker in turn retracted his blue-tipped claws and draped them over his chest.

Finally, Megatron withdrew himself from the small frame, earning a quiet hiss of oversensitivity. Transfluid dripped from their equipment, pooling on the berth; mixed with it were traces of energon. Looking away least his fans kick up again, he took a mental list of the physical evidence left upon Starscream’s armor, noting with a smidgeon of pride the unmistakable marks around his waist. Claimed, he had.

Starscream’s optics had opened, and as Megatron watched for a reaction he was met with a lack of one. The Seeker seemed to be processing their activities, accepting what had happened as his weary gaze flittered across a small patch of ceiling. Megatron sat back.

“Rest,” he ordered gently, squeezing a leg. He told himself it was to reinforce his words. Swiftly, he slid off the berth to his shaky pedes.

Starscream’s focus shifted to his direction and back, but with a pinching of his brows he disobeyed and lifted himself with visible effort, wings drooping in exhaustion. His energy reserves were low, and no doubt a force shut down was imminent. But still he persisted. He swung his legs off the edge of the berth and winced slightly, avoiding the pool of their debauchery, and promptly buckled under his own weight when his pedes hit the floor. Megatron grabbed an arm and hoisted him up.

“You need recharge,” he told him.

“I – ee – d the – ash racks,” Starscream’s fritzing vocalizer spat out unevenly. He made an effort of rebooting it.

Too accustomed to Starscream’s individual sense of pride, Megatron could see where the situation would go, so he intervened. “As do I,” he countered. “I will not be long.” And with that he released the Seeker’s arm and strode (shuffled maybe) to his personal wash racks before any protests could be made. So be it if Starscream chose to be affronted by his lack of courtesy – after a short rinse off Megatron returned to find exactly what he intended: Starscream having surrendered to recharge on the berth. He would have collapsed in the wash racks anyway.

Retrieving a wash cloth, Megatron proceeded to clean his SIC and wipe the berth. There were a few trickles of transfluid on the floor, and a fresh wave of arousal pulsed through him as he realized how much he had pumped into the Seeker. He cleared away all evidence and tossed the cloth back into the wash racks.

In the relatively now quiet air, he paused for a moment and stared at the mech on his berth. Starscream had settled onto his side away from the room, presenting his relaxed wings. At least he had gotten comfortable before he fell to recharge. In his curled position he seemed even smaller.

Megatron turned around to his personal energon dispenser and generated a cube, which he placed on a shelf within optic-line. Starscream would need it when he rebooted; the fool had not refueled after his flight earlier. With a silent command, his door slid open and Megatron moved towards it, casting one last look at the satiated Seeker. Composing his posture, he turned and left, closing his room off behind him.

To his mild annoyance, the satisfaction of his conquest did not dissipate. No. 

Now he wanted more.


End file.
